Sweet child, It's hard to imagine a life before you.
Sometimes, when I slow down enough to remember, I recall all the things I once wondered about you.
From the moment I heard your heartbeat, I tried to envision what life would look like with you in it.
Would I have a son or a daughter?
What would I feel when I finally held you? Overwhelming love, fear, devotion; unlike anything I've ever felt? (That's what they kept telling me.)
What color would your eyes be? Would your hair be curly or straight?
I tried to picture your smile. I imagined your laughter and what your voice would sound like when you spoke your first words.
When would you first roll over; crawl; take your first steps?
I wondered what traits would paint your little personality. Would you be hyper and silly or quiet and shy? Sensitive? Bold? Strong-willed? Laid-back?
I couldn't wait to find out. I couldn't wait to know you.
And then, all the "I wonders" started to change,
one by one,
from hazy visions conjured up in my head to tangible realities unfolding before my eyes.
We popped the balloon and the confetti was pink.
You came, I held you, and I felt it all. All the love; fear; devotion. (They were right.)
I watched your eyes turn from dark grey to light blue to a smokey sage green. I noticed your hair curling up on the ends as it grew past your tiny ears.
I captured hundreds of your smiles, in my phone and in my mind. You filled me with joy as your infectious laughter filled our home.
Rolling and crawling feels like ages ago and now you're running circles around my tired mama heart.
You're hyper and silly. Quiet and shy. Sensitive. Bold. Strong-willed.
Not the least bit laid-back.
I never knew someone so small could have a presence so big.
I never knew such a short time could hold so much space in my world.
But now that you're here, it's impossible to imagine life before you.
Your spirit is so abounding it feels like you're as much a part of my past as you are my future.
And what a gift it is to keep wondering just what else our future has in store.